


The Long Night's Moon

by homoeroticismforthewin



Series: A Year of Moons [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: A year in the life of the pack, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Gen Fic, Intermittent swearing, M/M, Pack Feels, Plot-free, Unbeta'd, Vignette, WIP, first fic ever, smut-free, sorryI'mnotsorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-24
Updated: 2012-08-24
Packaged: 2017-11-12 18:28:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/494310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/homoeroticismforthewin/pseuds/homoeroticismforthewin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first in a series (A Year of Moons) of vignettes taken from the Pack's senior year of high school and beyond, showing pack cohesiveness, development, and overall fucking cuteness. The pack's first holiday season together. Apologies for the saccharine.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Long Night's Moon

**Author's Note:**

> Un-beta'd. WIP. Sappy. Vignettes of pack life. Heavy on snuggling, light on smut.  
> Note: I have screwed with the timeline here slightly so that their sophomore year (seasons 1 & 2) took place in 2011/2012, their junior year took place 2012/13, and their senior year (during which this is set) takes place 2013/14 because GUYS there is an actual total lunar eclipse visible from the Americas in 2014, and I really wanted to include that. Because DUDE, astronomy is AWESOME. Non-canon future!fic. I make a zany assumption that Lydia ends up being wolfy because I have no idea where this immunity storyline is headed, and I kind of like the idea of Stiles being the only human (Allison doesn’t count, okay?). Also Sterek, Scallison, Jydia, and Melissa McCall/Sherriff Stilinski as Established Relationship, but that’s sort of secondary to the story. Which isn’t so much a story as a series of fluffy as fuck vignettes.

Stiles felt like Martha frickin’ Stewart. He’d never admit it to anyone, but he had really enjoyed all of the planning and preparing, and everything looked perfect. He hadn’t been this into Christmas since his mom died. The thought sobered him for a moment. Well, it made sense. Stiles and his dad had always been tight, but around Christmas the house just felt… empty. Any and all attempts at holiday cheer ended up seeming sad, so they mostly ignored Christmas. They’d sleep late, do a couple of presents, then they’d order in Chinese and watch Die Hard, and Stiles would go to bed and ignore the sounds of his dad drinking alone downstairs. That was pretty much Christmas, Stilinksi-style. It had gone that way for years.  


This year was going to be different, though, and Stiles was practically vibrating with excitement. He’d finished his last final exam of the semester four days ago, and since then he’d been in full-steam ahead Christmas mode. He’d bought and wrapped everyone’s presents (and man, being pack meant having way more people to shop for), he and his Dad had gotten a tree and set it up (as yet untrimmed), he’d baked and baked and baked, the house was decorated, the music was playing, and for once in the history of Beacon Hills there was actual snow on the ground. Christmas was fucking AWESOME.  


Probably the best part about Christmas this year, though, was that Stiles got to have it Twice. Tonight, the whole pack was coming over (and it was a good thing that being a werewolf seemed to automatically erase all sense of personal space, because there really wasn’t going to be room for anything less intimate than cuddling) to do presents and dinner. Now that Erica and Boyd had finally started reconnecting with their parents (they still weren’t out as wolves to them, but they wanted to make up for letting them think they were dead), the pack was going to be apart for Christmas Day. Not that the date really mattered, since none of them were particularly religious, but Derek had insisted that they have a Pack Meet for the holiday and to celebrate another year of nobody dying. Stiles had volunteered his house, unable to stomach the idea of Christmas dinner in the rail depot, no matter how many minimally-skeezy couches Isaac found on Craigslist.  


The front door slammed open, jingling the tiny bells on the pretty damned festive wreath Stiles had hung there.  


“We’re hoooome!” A voice crooned joyously. Stiles grinned. He was never going to get used to that. He threw down the vegetable peeler and raced to the front hall.  


“Can I help?” Stiles made grabby hands at the huge haul of packages in Scott’s arms.  


“No way, man, you just want to peek at your presents!” Scott laughed, and snatched the bags away, racing upstairs, and calling over his shoulder “I’m just going to wrap these and then I’ll come help with dinner…”  


Melissa shouldered past Stiles with a wry grin on her face. “That means you won’t see him again until everyone gets here. Kid can’t wrap a present to save his life…”  


Mrs. McCall, now Melissa to Stiles after twelve years and a surprising remarriage last summer, had been his partner in holiday crime and was already headed into the kitchen to put down the last of the last minute groceries. Okay, mash the potatoes, make the gravy, plate the turkey... Stiles was running through his to-do list in his head trying to regain his focus when he heard a shriek from the kitchen, and an exasperated “God, do you always have to Do that?” followed by a “Stiiiiles!”  


“What, what’s going…” Stiles practically fell into the kitchen, and heaved a put-upon sigh when he saw Derek leaning uncomfortably against the counter and Melissa cleaning up a mess of broken shells and slimy raw egg from the floor.  


“You do know that we have a front door, right?”  


Derek shrugged “I wanted to surprise you.”  


Stiles went up on tiptoe to kiss Derek on the forehead. “Mission accomplished, doofus. Now go take your jacket off and help me mash the potatoes. And next time, use the door.”  


Stiles bent to help Melissa clean up the eggs, and to assess whether there were still enough left for the eggnog he had planned. If not, he wasn’t too worried. Stiles wasn’t entirely behind the idea of drinking raw eggs anyway, but Erica swore that eggnog was compulsory. Stiles hoped Melissa had remembered the nutmeg.  


***  


The Pack Meet was tonight, and there’d be dinner and dessert and presents, and later on the wolves would go for a run under the full moon out by the burnt-out husk of the Hale house and then they’d come back for hot chocolate and snuggles on the living room floor. And Stiles would be waiting for them. He’d make the hot chocolate and join in the cuddling, and then he and Derek would escape upstairs together after everyone fell asleep.  


And then, next week, while Allison was celebrating with her Dad, and Boyd and Erica made forays home for inevitably emotionally draining Christmas reunions with their parents, and Jackson and Lydia suffered through their individually hellish separate Christmases, Stiles’ new family would be right here, Stiles and Scott ripping through wrapping paper with obnoxious abandon while their parents half-heartedly complained about the early morning. And later that day, guests would come over for another Christmas dinner, this time just Derek, Peter, and Isaac, because Stiles and Scott couldn’t stand to think of their pack spending Christmas alone in an abandoned building. It hadn’t taken Scott too much whining to convince Melissa to go along with it, and once Melissa was in Stiles knew his dad hadn’t stood a chance.  


***  


The next hour was a mad rush back and forth from the front door to the kitchen and back, as people piled into the house and Stiles and Melissa worked elbow to elbow finishing up the last of the cooking. Peter, Isaac, Erica, and Boyd had all arrived together and quickly set to work trimming the tree, with Erica shamelessly crunching the candy canes intended as ornaments, while Isaac and Boyd tried to untangle the strings of lights and figure out where the loose bulb was. Peter mostly sat in Stiles’ Dad’s chair and made snarky comments about their collective intelligence until Erica draped herself across his lap and distracted him with outrageous flirting that seemed intended to make him desperately uncomfortable.  


Not too much later Lydia, Jackson, Danny, and Allison arrived, bundled up and bearing gifts. Danny had been coming to pack meets for a few months, and finally seemed to be getting more comfortable with the other wolves. He and Erica had become surprisingly good friends, and as soon as he arrived Erica abandoned a relieved Peter’s lap for Danny’s.  


Lydia settled onto the couch and bossily put Jackson to work, and he obediently crouched in front of the fireplace, grumbling and tearing up old newspaper for kindling. Allison started to tiptoe up the stairs, but paused halfway up when she heard Scott’s panicked voice “You can’t come up here, Allison, I’m wrapping your present!”  


Of course that was the wrong thing to say, because Allison vanished in a flash of dimples, pounding up the stairs, and the entire house heard the thump as Scott bellyflopped onto Allison’s gift in the hopes of keeping it a surprise. In the kitchen, Stiles winced and hoped it wasn’t anything breakable.  


***  


A few minutes later, Dr. Deaton was on his way up the walk when Sherriff Stilinski pulled in, and the two men came through the door together complaining about the cold and chuckling about the inaccuracy of weather reports.  


“Everyone’s here,” he whispered to Melissa “Let’s get the food out onto the table before…”  


There was a pounding of feet into the kitchen as five teenage werewolves ran for the chance to get their hands on the food first. Only Derek’s baleful glare stopped them before they could start sticking fingers into serving dishes.  


“Take the food out to the table, and do not taste it or touch it until everyone is seated.” Derek growled.  


As the food paraded out the door to the dining room, awash in a sea of adolescent grumbling, Stiles started to wonder if he shouldn’t have considered some way to keep the pies and cookies under lock and key so that they’d survive until dessert.  


Even with all of the extra leaves in they could only fit eight people around the table, so Danny, Lydia, Jackson, Isaac, Erica, and Boyd were relegated to the “kids table” in the living room. Normally they’d use the kitchen table for this, but Stiles didn’t trust the wolves not to make some kind of trouble, even with Lydia and Danny there to keep them in line. He’d be lucky if all of the presents were still under the tree at the end of the night.  


Lydia’s father’s family had always celebrated with Christmas crackers, which Stiles had never heard of, so she brought two giant boxes of sparkly-looking tubes, and passed them around as everyone settled down for dinner. There was a lot of muttering about the food getting cold until she explained about the part where there was something slightly explosive in them. She managed to get out two more words before both rooms errupted in surprisingly loud bangs. Which is how the entire pack ended up wearing ridiculous tissue paper hats while eating truly immense amounts of food with expressions of intense concentration and ecstatic joy on their faces. Stiles surreptitiously snapped pictures on his phone while they were distracted, because hey, how often do you get to see Derek and Lydia in stupid paper hats?  


In fact, everyone pretty much dove face-first into the food, which Stiles took as a compliment, even if it meant that conversation was somewhat lacking. Dr. Deaton, Sherriff Stilinski, and Melissa all made a fair effort at conversation, and Peter looked torn, like he just couldn’t decide between ravenously shoveling food into his mouth and proving himself the cleverest person at the table. Scott and Derek showed no such concerns, and went straight for eating as much as possible as quickly as possible, which seemed to convince Peter. So while the adults chatted about the kids’ college plans and the staffing changes at the hospital, the wolves devoured everything on the table while moaning inappropriately. Stiles and Allison spent most of the meal glancing at each other and giggling, and Stiles noticed his dad blushing, which pushed him right over the edge until he choked on his Brussels sprouts. Only werewolves could make Christmas dinner sound this obscene.  


***  


After dinner, the whole group sprawled out in the living room, presents opened, and waiting for the humans’ dinners to settle enough to start on the pie. Stiles brought out the gingerbread men he’d made to keep the wolves occupied, and watched as they were passed through the bizarre puppy-pile that had grown on the rug, limbs laced through limbs until all of the beta wolves seemed to be touching each other somehow. The room was full of quiet breathing and calm murmurs. Peter and Deaton sat quietly on the couch, staring into the fire. Allison was snuggled up against Scott, whose head rested on Issac’s stomach, and Isaac’s head was canted over to rest against Boyd’s knee. Erica was sandwiched between Boyd and Danny, a silly little smile on her face. Jackson and Lydia spooned on the rug, with Jackson’s hand resting gently in Danny’s hair, and Lydia’s arm reaching up to hold hands with Allison.  


Stiles leaned back against Derek’s shoulder, and felt the Alpha’s arm slip around him. Yeah, Stiles thought, it makes sense that Christmas is different now. He watched as his dad and Melissa snuggled on the old recliner, looking happier than he remembered either of them being before. He nudged Scott’s foot, and nodded his head in their direction. Scott grinned and nudged his foot back. They luxuriated for a minute in the knowledge that they were brothers now, not just best friends, not just pack brothers (although that was hardly a “just”), but actual legal brothers, and that their parents were happy. After spending the last two years lying to them fairly constantly, Stiles knew exactly how Scott felt. That having them here in the heart of the pack felt like finally coming home, felt like Christmas again.

**Author's Note:**

> I'll try to get the next bit up by the end of August, assuming anyone reads this. It may not happen, but I'll try. Also, if anyone wants to beta, I'd love to have one. Let me know. Con-Crit is always welcome.
> 
> ETA: The end of August isn't going to happen. I made that prediction before I knew about the fic contest, and then all this angst kept getting all over my fluff, and DAMMIT. The good news is that I accidentally already wrote another of the later chapters, so I will catch up to my planned schedule. This next one will probably happen... mid/late September? Sorry, but my dissertation advisor WILL beat me with a folding chair if I don't get something done.


End file.
